


A Private Matter

by sparkle731



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkle731/pseuds/sparkle731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky's first good look at his scars</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Matter

David Starsky went into the privacy of his bedroom and locked the door securely behind him. He walked over to the full length mirror mounted on the wall and stared at his reflection in the glass. He no longer resembled the youthful, vibrant man he had been just a few months ago.  
He'd lost weight and it showed. Clothes that once were snug and form fitting now hung loosely on his frame. He had always had a lean, muscular build but now he was downright skinny. His face was gaunt and haggard, his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief against his sunken cheeks. His normally olive toned complexion now looked pale, his natural tan having faded from the long weeks of forced confinement to a hospital room.  
His sapphire eyes were dull and listless; the sparkle that had defined his zest for life had faded along with his energy and his stamina. The bullets that had almost taken his life had taken his youth and his optimism. He knew that he would never be the man he used to, his future bleak and uncertain at the moment.  
Sighing heavily, his trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. As each button opened, a larger portion of his chest was exposed. His heart pounded frantically as he let his eyes focus on the scars that were slowly revealed. It was the first time since he'd been shot that he allowed himself to really see the scars that had been left behind.  
He choked back the lump that seemed to be lodged in his throat as he let the shirt slip off his shoulders and fall unnoticed to the floor. Every rib stood out clearly reminding him of some of the pictures he had seen of holocaust survivors. His muscles had lost their tone and definition and he didn't know if he would ever be able to get it back. His chest hair had grown back in patches making the scars stand out even more.  
The longest scar ran from just below his sternum down over his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans where he knew it ended just above his pelvic bone. Another scar ran vertically across his chest, starting just below his left nipple and wrapping around to his lower back. The smallest scar was six inches long and ran along his right side. The scars were still puckered and red, tiny dots still marking where the stitches had been in his skin. He knew there were more scars on his back from the exit wounds the two bullets that had torn through his body had left behind as they exited.  
The other two bullets had shattered on impact with bone and the fragments had to be surgically removed.  
He blinked back the sudden tears that burned at his eyes. Even if the scars faded with time, they would always be there, a silent reminder of the day that had he almost died. Hell, if you wanted to know the truth, he had died. Twice to be exact. Once when his heart stopped in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and once in the ICU when he went into cardiac arrest.  
The doctors called him their 'miracle patient', the man who should have died but didn't. Sometimes, he wished that he had. He was still in pain almost constantly, a lingering pain that never seemed to go away even with the powerful pain killers he was still taking.  
Starsky was not a vain man but he was a realistic one. He hated the scars and what they stood for. They were ugly and permanent. But, even worse, were the scars that nobody could see. The ones on his very soul. The ones that made him afraid of being shot again. The ones that would keep him from returning to the streets. The career ending scars that would never heal.  
He heard the soft knock at the locked door behind him but he chose to ignore it. He knew that it was Hutch. And he knew that Hutch would still be there when he was ready to talk.  
But, he needed some time. Time to mourn the loss of the life he was leaving behind, the loss of the man he used to be, the man that he knew he would never be again.  
THE END


End file.
